My Week of Dates: How I Found My Future Husband

Faced with overwhelming stress in the lead-up to receiving my second bar exam results, I found myself sobbing over ramen at midday on a Thursday. The tension was unbearable; I'd already sat the California Bar once without success, and the thought that all my education and hard work might be wasted was suffocating. I wanted nothing more than to be a lawyer, but what if I failed again? Desperate for a change, I concocted a plan to distract myself.

A Distraction Plan: Dates Galore

To escape from the isolating inadequacy of my own company, I decided to fill each day of my week with a date. This strategy would ensure I left the house and stayed away from the subject of my personal struggles—something decidedly unsuitable for date talk. Having immersed myself in exam prep, dating had taken a backseat for a while. Hence, I revisited old connections.

For Monday, I contacted an acquaintance with whom I'd previously shared a few casual get-togethers; a similar pattern followed for Wednesday. Thursday was reserved for a man whose daring demeanor was tempered by his possession of a boat. An old college flirt was scheduled for Friday. Tuesday remained open, prompting me to brush off my neglected Tinder app. Among stereotypical greetings, one message stood out: 'You seem like someone I'd enjoy dancing with in public.' This unusual compliment tickled my humor. 'That's a surprisingly random comment,' I replied, 'but spot on. Shall we grab drinks on Tuesday?'

The Memorable Tuesday Encounter

Monday's rendezvous was pleasant, reaffirming that friendship better suited us. On Tuesday, however, I met him—a man I nicknamed Mr. Tuesday. Our interaction veered from my intended laid-back agenda because he appeared even more charming than his photos suggested, sparking an unexpected bout of nerves. True to my honest self, I admitted, 'I might become a lawyer someday?' His empathy knew no bounds, offering a listening ear I desperately needed.

Though his dating profile hadn't highlighted interests in art, literature, or politics, our dialogues on these topics soared above those I'd had with self-proclaimed aficionados. Mr. Tuesday, a muscular guy with a soft spot for Jane Austen, understood my deepest professional dread and wanted to see me regardless.

The next day was forgettable, and I opted for solitude over a Thursday outing with a dubious companion.

The Start of Something New

Friday brought the news—I passed the bar exam. Celebrations ensued with Champagne-fueled friends, leaving me tipsy for my date with the past acquaintance who responded tepidly to my success. Meanwhile, Mr. Tuesday's early congratulatory text revealed genuine enthusiasm.

That turbulent week enabled me to present an unvarnished version of myself, free from premature judgments. Our relationship blossomed into numerous outings, eventually cohabitating. He cherished me before I sported the lawyer title and stood by me when I later pursued another career path.

Now, married, our story began with a dance proposal and centers around shared joy, epitomized by our wedding's first dance to the tune of Louis Armstrong's 'La Vie En Rose.'